


Switching

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Costume Kink, Identity Porn, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-27
Updated: 2011-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark and Bruce like to switch costumes while in the bedroom, even if it does get a little confusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switching

"I don't know how you stand it," Bruce Wayne announced, throwing himself down onto the king-sized bed he and Clark Kent often shared.

"You get used to it," Clark said, looking down and fiddling with some esoteric strap.

Bruce made a frankly hedonistic noise. "Impossible. It's so...so... _silky_ , and it _clings_. God, it's driving me crazy just lying here."

Clark continued focusing on a buckle, mostly because if he spared more than a fleeting glance for the sight of Bruce Wayne sprawled across the bed, writhing around in the Superman costume, he might simply lose his grip on reason.

"Would you hurry up with that? I'm not sure I can wait much longer," Bruce complained. He rolled over onto his stomach, his hips making involuntary twitching motions as he thrust helplessly against the mattress. "It's so warm, and smooth...it's like being inside you, Clark."

Unfortunately, Clark had gotten distracted by the sight of Bruce's flexing ass in red spandex and he'd lost track of his own costuming. "If you want me to be fast, you should wear a more simple outfit," he grumbled.

Bruce moaned into a pillow. "How do you fight crime in this thing? No way could I fight Lex Luthor when all I could think about is how hard I was getting from this damn cloth rubbing up against me."

He rolled over onto his back, and the sight of the very impressive bulge in the red cloth inspired Clark to figure out how to fasten the straps and buckles of Batsuit in record time. "All right," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "What's the story?"

Bruce was breathing heavily. His eyes ran up and down Clark in the black leather suit with a hungry gleam. "Superman's been mind controlled," he said.

"What, _again_?"

"Oh, but it'll be _fun_ this time," leered Bruce. He leaped to his feet, the red cape cascading sinuously off the bed after him, and cast Clark a look over his shoulder. "This time he's been exposed to some form of Kryptonite that lowers all his inhibitions. That, combined with the infernal insistent caress of his costume, inspires him to finally hunt down that maddening Batman and force the bastard into delicious submission."

He swiveled and sprang at Clark with a fluid motion, knocking him flat on his back against the pillows.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time," growled Bruce as he pinned Clark's hands above his head and ground up against him. "You've been begging for it, admit it." His eyes snapped with imperious blue fire, his face alight with unholy glee. Clark didn't realize he was staring in silence until Bruce bent to undo a buckle and nip at his neck, stage-whispering, "You're kind of supposed to fight me, you know."

"Right. Sorry." Clark pushed up against Bruce's hands, feeling the leather armor creak and give. He glared defiance. "I'd never beg you for anything, alien scum," he snapped.

"Oh _ho_ ," Bruce said gloatingly. "I like a human with a little fight in him. It makes it more fun when I break you." He was undoing buckles with an alacrity that approached superhuman speed, and Clark found himself surprisingly breathless as insistent fingers brushed his skin, tweaking a nipple with lightning-quickness. "Pathetic Dark Knight," sneered Bruce. "You can't resist me."

The Batsuit was becoming shockingly constraining in localized areas. Even more shocking was that the constraint was distinctly erotic. "Mh," Clark managed, trying to look angry instead of increasingly wanton. "You may be stronger than I am in body, but not in will. You can take what you want, but you'll never make me submit." God, it felt so good. So tight.

"But you want to submit," purred Bruce. He let the scarlet cape pour over Clark's now-bare chest, and Clark was forced to admit that the texture was more sensual than he usually let himself think about. Combined with the tight clasp of the armored codpiece, he was beginning to feel like he was coming apart at the seams. "The big bad Bat just wants to let go and get fucked by his alien master, doesn't he?"

It was getting difficult to keep track of who was whom at this point, but Clark was fairly certain of the key issue. "I want you to fuck me," he moaned in agreement at the figure bending over him, the being who was driving him mad with desire.

His lover chuckled, his fingers skating over the hard leather that gripped Clark's cock. "Roll over," he murmured.

Clark did, feeling the edges of codpiece digging into the tender skin of his groin in ways that might have been painful if he were human, but were most assuredly not. He groaned, pushing up against the mattress and feeling the leather tight around him. "I--I have to come soon," he panted. "It's so good."

"Not until I'm inside you." Bruce's voice was commanding. < You won't come until I'm inside you >, he added in Kryptonian, using the most obscene and lascivious form of the verb available in the language, one that implied total submission of the body and soul.

< Yes >, Clark agreed, his whole body throbbing imperiously as he felt the lower part of the suit pulled down. The leather jockstrap, separate from the armored legs, stayed in place, and Clark's erection strained against it as he felt none-too-gentle fingers probe him in rapturous ways. When they withdrew, he made an inarticulate sound of protest, grinding against the hard leather and thrusting his hips backwards.

"Eager, eager," murmured Bruce. Clark felt bare skin pressing against him, and then with a quick thrust, Bruce was inside him, filling him with a sweet and insistent pressure that made his cock harden even more.

Gripped tightly by the leather, he rocked against Bruce, desperate to meet every thrust. "I'm going to--to come in the suit," he stammered, feeling the first pulses of orgasm shivering at the edges of his senses.

A dark chuckle, and a hand twined in his hair as Bruce buried himself deeper. "Yes," said Bruce, his own voice ragged and spiraling out of control. "And then I'll make you lick it clean."

It was too much; Clark bucked forward into the hot, tight leather with a cry, and behind him he heard Bruce groan wordlessly, thrusting hard and deep. Clark collapsed forward as his climax ebbed away, savoring the way Bruce writhed against him in the throes of his own orgasm. With a long, luxurious sigh, Bruce sank down beside him, wrapping his arms around him.

After a moment, Bruce twitched one arm, and the folds of the red cape settled over both of them. He was still wearing the top half of the Superman costume, Clark realized, and he twisted to get a good look at Bruce's eyes, sultry and satisfied, his face flushed with pleasure above the golden symbol.

"You're the best alien overlord ever," Clark murmured, kissing him.

Bruce's smile was smug and slightly wicked. His hand drifted down to the leather codpiece, caressing it.

"I don't believe we're done yet," he murmured.


End file.
